Chapter 9
ELLA
THE BLACK FOREST
Iscream Jacob’s name as water floods my lungs. My body sinks beneath the pond’s surface. I flail my arms. I punch and kick with all my might, but my skirts tangle in my legs, and vines slither around my wrists. Panic fills my burning lungs. What’s happening?
I need to keep my wits about me if I have any hope of surviving. I search for a way to untangle myself. My heart drops. Bones litter the pond’s floor. I’m floating over a rotting spinning wheel and a ditch piled with combs.
What is this place?
Fear spikes through me. I kick even harder.
A woman floats toward me. Her hair splays out around her like spilled ink.
A crown studded with gems circles her head, and she’s wearing a sheer, misty gown that looks as if it’s made from sand.
My lungs are burning, but I try to swim to her.
Maybe she can help me. But then she smiles, revealing razor-sharp teeth that gleam like they’re waiting to sink into my skin.
Dread fills my chest. Her crown isn’t created from gems, but eyeballs blinking at me as if warning me to flee.
A water spirit.
I backpedal, swimming against the vines. She reaches out a skinless hand, bony fingers beckoning. I shake my head. My lungs burn.
I need air!
Cold bones wrap around my wrist. There’s a pull on my chest like she’s digging inside me, trying to yank out my soul.
Fire bursts from my lungs. It shivers through my entire body, tingling from my fingertips to toes.
My vision blurs, but the fire brings oxygen and energy to fight back.
I bat her away, scratching her with my nails.
Except my fingers aren’t fingers. They’re talons, sharp and deadly as the steel tip of an arrow.
Confusion swirls through me.
The water spirit cries out. Her voice trembles through the water like endless ripples. She releases me, and I float away. I need air. I need to swim. But I’m too weak. My arms hang at my sides. My body sinks.
The world goes dark.
Hands wrap around me, arms locking around my trembling body. Then something is pushing hard on my chest.
Pain. Fire.
I choke. Then I’m gasping, drinking in sweet, glorious pine air.
Blinking against the blurred world, I stare up into stormy gray eyes.
“Jacob,” I whisper.
Dark hair hangs in strands over his face, worry stretching that perfect mouth into a frown. He’s kneeling at my side, cradling me against his warm body. His hand tenderly brushes my wet hair away from my face.
“Almost couldn’t find you,” he murmurs, more to himself, I think. “Thought she took you.”
I sink against his firm chest. “You saved me.”
“Of course.” He offers a half-smile, but his jaw is tight. “Couldn’t just watch you drown.”
I close my eyes as he sets me on the soft grass, but the image of the woman floating in the water, dancing like mist in a lost sky, reappears. A nightmare I’m not sure I’ll ever shake.
“There was a woman.” I try to sit up, but I’m shivering too hard.
“Here, take this.” He strips off his shirt in one smooth motion, and I can’t help but notice the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath his skin.
His broad shoulders taper into powerful arms, chest sculpted like something out of myth.
Then, with a gentleness that contrasts his strength, he drapes the shirt around me.
It smells like him, that mix of pine and ink.
It’s hardly decent, but I’m beyond caring.
“Thank you. The miller always warned us that the millpond is haunted by a water spirit, but I thought he was just trying to keep people away.”
“That was a nixie, and she most definitely is real.” His frown deepens. “Later, you can tell me about this miller’s nixie, but right now, we need to get you home where your vicious birds will keep you safe.”
I manage a weak smile to keep him from worrying. While he packs his sketches and charcoal, I peek at my hands. They look normal. No talons, no claws. Whatever I saw the water was merely a hallucination brought on by nearly drowning.
You’re safe now.
Over the next few days, the memory of the millpond clings to me, dark and persistent.
But just as vivid is the memory of being held in Jacob’s arms. I tell myself I only want to see him again to return his shirt, but he hasn’t come back.
So I throw myself into overseeing the harvest instead.
Thankfully, with Mother’s jewelry now funding our efforts, I’m able to hire ten fieldhands to work the land.
It means rising before dawn and working until the sky fades to dusk, but if we can keep this pace, we might finish before the first snowfall.
This morning, I stop by the kitchen to fill a basket of fresh-baked rolls and pretzels for the harvest crew.
“You aren’t going to eat all of those in one sitting, are you?” Cook grins at me as I break off half of a soft pretzel and stuff it into my mouth. The sweet and salty taste warms my insides.
“I’m not that selfish. I’m planning on sharing one or two with the fieldhands,” I tease and then give her a quick hug. “Thank you for keeping us all fed. I know it can’t be easy.”
“Nonsense.” She bats me away with floured hands, but there’s a brightness to her face I haven’t seen since Mother died. The two had been close. Maybe we’re all healing, one sunrise at a time.
I push open the back door and step into the garden. Leaves are scattered across the path, and the roses need pruning before winter. It’s been neglected since Kurt joined the others to work in the fields.
“Ella!” Jesse calls out to me, waving a letter. A thrill of hope shoots through me. Father wrote! Finally. She hands me a smooth, creamy envelope. “Master Grimm stopped by and asked me to give you this.”
“Did he?” Even though it’s not from Father, my heart flutters as I remember how Jacob carried me in his arms like I weighed nothing. “How unexpected.”
Once she leaves, I settle onto the garden bench and open the letter. A sketch of a raven, wings stretched out in flight, is tucked inside along with a letter. The paper crinkles as I open it. Desperately, I read the smooth, flowing script.
Ella,
I drew this sketch and thought of you. Perhaps our paths will cross again. In the meantime, stay clear of the forest and the millpond. I recommend you keep feeding those feisty birds of yours. They seem to like you.
Ever yours,
Jacob Grimm
“Ever yours,” I whisper, and my heart takes off racing.
I trace the outline of the raven, gray eyes filling my thoughts. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I tuck the letter into my bodice, close to my chest, and hike out to the sun-drenched fields. A little dreaming can’t hurt, right?